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dinner on the manning: whiting with honey and chili dust

Frank introduced us to the River the day after we took him home from the Harrington pub, the day he had been beaten insensible by the three dark men who had travelled up from Sydney looking for the local plantation. Three bikers.

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the truant

How they roamed up to him did these fellows when their unpredicted veer bisected the boy’s solitary path and they, wordless and all but stinking with rejection and loss, looked at him hot, and wordless, like a lover.

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euclid, toilet tiles and one percenters

They all watched me as I left the building, dozens of them standing around their bikes with their women, but I sensed a respect as we drove away, for the violent have always deferred to the daft.

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the invitation to wategos

the past

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the holiday van, tabourie: fresh bream with basil leaves

They had been drinking all day that day and he had sent her over to the bottle shop for a few bottles to take home, and the long bump under the back wheel outside the drive-in bottle shop as he backed in was too soft to be a ramp

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the diplomat’s boy, an encounter

The boy would lay naked on his bed reading of the woman’s life of appeasement and subjugation. He had a jar of Vaseline by the bedside that he used to facilitate his daylong masturbation sessions.

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market day

Her once clear eyes long blinded by cataracts, her memory ruthlessly scoured by Alzheimers, her legs sodden with a gangrenous discharge that had confounded him for weeks - she would clasp his warm hand with her own cold and taloned claw the instant he laid it down softly by her side.

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the end of lancaster road

Sometimes we followed him a little way along to the first ledge before losing our enthusiasm. Lester though would amble along the airy ledge and swing down on one of the steel bars that led to another lower level

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dark beach

Mick Wright ran a caryard in Sydenham, twenty sale units in the lot, all repossessed, and he remembered the silent beard with an army kitbag who paid cash for the ’65 Bedford in 1974.

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arvo part ~ cantus in memory of benjamin britten

arvo part was born in estonia in 1935 and is one of the most prominent living composers of 'sacred' music.

His music fulfills a deep human need that has nothing to do with fashion (steve reich)

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surfoplanes ~ their place in the scheme of things

Not enough has been written about the Surfoplane, particularly in regard to its legitimate role as a precursor to the hard-edged BellyBoard, and the modern day Boogie Board, and nothing at all has been written about the techniques and skills necessary to have had a successful session.

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kevin (the head) brennan does breakfast

He was a troublesome jockey sized kid with an Irish pugnacity, an improper regard to discipline, a feral cunning and a consummate and admirable deftness in the surf. His agility, and ability to control the heavy boards of the time seemed effortless.

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leigh

meet the family

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the smoke

Later they accepted a cup of tea, and I searched for some humanity in their professionalism, some sign of life, some indication that they understood that the parcel was just a stoner’s generosity – in this case a younger brother adrift on the great African coast.

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meet surfers online

Stratham J advertises himself as mature and buff. He is a regular at Shipsterns and Cow Reef and he holidays at Tahiti and Sumatra. He has a career in editorial fashion and travels widely with the Victoria’s Secret Lingerie roadshow.

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meet sups online ~ and live the dream

Rufus went to Hawaii in the 1964 season to ride big Kaena Point and a large group of large gentlemen made themselves known to him at Haleiwa on his first night in town

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macau

I went to Macau once

years ago

long before your time ~

We took the big double hull ferry from Hong Kong on a pearl-grey

China day

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canaxis – the boatwoman song

Part one - and it isn't exactly popular music - Czukay pre-dated Eno and Harold Budd, and if those names confound you then your journey is incomplete - Later Czukay gained some memorable notoriety with his band Can -

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zazou and barbara grogan

hector who?

travelling south

For hours afterward motorists wondered at the deep red stains by the roadside; the local Police had no explanation for the apparent phenomenon, and ambulance officers later confirmed that the red substance that covered large portions of the highway was definitely not spilt blood.

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clapton and santana ~ play jingo

the house at the top of the pass. mrs brown

Mrs. Brown is home, and is watering her roses in the windless heat up there.

And a barefoot youth runs up at her from the road, he is wild eyed and blowing from some massive exertion, his t-shirt is crimson with dried blood

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feeney and the cbh.

Feeney couldn’t find his car, then the car door, his car keys, the key that fitted the door, or the hole that fitted the key.

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dragon force – play me very loudly

hair guitar drums - sorted.

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doug, the hopperman

Doug stood up and backhanded him twice to the wall, all splintering glass now, and spilt beer and dumbfounded shock

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